


playing with a different sex

by boyhands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, a tiny bit of smut like barely even counts as smut, also i spent like .05 secs developing the character backgrounds whoops, just guy on guy kissin basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:57:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyhands/pseuds/boyhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>umm louis is a dad and his son's soccer coach is harry...idk i just wanted to do an age difference fic/louis as a hot dad</p>
            </blockquote>





	playing with a different sex

Harry lay down on the dewy grass and closed his eyes, letting himself rest for a minute as the junior league practiced drills. He covered his eyes with a hand and felt the hot sun on his skin and slowly started to drift off...

"Ow!" He bolted up with a start as he felt a small body crash into him. He rubbed his eyes and saw Jack Tomlinson, one of the younger boys, sprawled on the grass next to him, crying. 

"Hey, come on buddy, it's okay," Harry said, kneeling at his side. "Come on. Get up. That's right." He helped the five-year-old up and dusted the wet grass off his jersey. "You okay?"  
Jack looked up at Harry with his watery blue eyes and nodded, and Harry put a hand on his shoulder and walked him back to the end of the field, where the boys' parents were starting to arrive. 

"My dad's picking me up today," said Jack, smiling up at Harry, who could hear the pride in his voice. 

"Is that right?" Harry replied, squinting at the crowd. "Your dad the British one?" Harry had moved from Cheshire to here in Tarrytown when he was twelve, and figured that Jack's slight English accent had come from one of his parents.

"Uh-huh!" said Jack, skipping as he walked. "From Dun-cast-uh," he laughed, imitating what Harry figured was his father's accent. Harry smiled. 

"That's him!" Jack said, and ran off to hug his father as he got out of the car. Harry folded his arms and watched the kids leave, and Liam, the other coach, came over to him. 

"Jesus, glad that's over," he laughed. "I swear, these kids get brattier every day."

"Why did we volunteer for this again?" Harry joked. 

"No idea. Want to go get some lunch after this?"

"Yeah sure, the diner? Oh hi Jack, what's up?" he added as the boy walked up to him, holding his dad's hand. 

"Hi Harry! This is my dad!" he said. "He wants to say hi!"

"I'll meet you there, okay?" Liam said, walking to his car. Harry waved and smiled at the two in front of him. 

"I'm Louis," Jack's father added, putting his hand out to shake. Harry smiled at him. 

Louis Tomlinson looked exactly like his son: thick brown hair, blue eyes that reflected whatever he was looking at, and thin and small. Harry was tall, but not so much that it wasn’t still a confidence boost to see great-looking men who were shorter than him. He shook Louis's hand.

“I just wanted to say thanks,” said Louis, his big eyes crinkling up at the corners, “you know, for everything you’ve done for these kids. It’s really sweet.”

“That’s me,” said Harry, smiling to show off his dimples. “Sweetness and spice and everything nice.”

“I thought it was sugar and spice,” laughed Louis. “Anyway, I should let you go. Just wanted to say hi.”

Harry waved at Louis as he turned away and Liam honked his horn in the parking lot.

“Jesus, flirt much?” said Liam as Harry climbed in the passenger seat.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to fool me, Styles,” said Liam, starting the car. “Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re flirting with someone. And you really were.” 

“Oh please,” grinned Harry. “Trust me, if I’m flirting you’ll know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you slay all the girls.”

******

That Friday was the UK football championships, and Harry skipped his last two periods to go to the English pub in town. It was a tradition for him to go whenever there was an important match on he wanted to watch, and Rowley, the bartender, always looked the other way for a fellow expatriate. He went so regularly that he thought he pretty much knew all the usual patrons, but he was proven surprisingly wrong.

Two points into the game, he was sitting at the bar with a pint and engaging the guy next to him in a halfhearted conversation about Man U’s best lineup when he heard his name called from the other side of the room. 

“Harry!”He turned around to see Louis sitting across from someone else at a booth and waving at him. He groaned and hid his face in his hands. It was one thing for the parents of the kids he coached to assume he wasn’t always clean-cut Coach Harry off the field, but quite another to be confronted by one drinking in a pub.

Louis was making come-over motions with his arm, and Harry excused himself from the conversation and walked over. “Hi, Mr. Tomlinson,” he said sheepishly, sweeping his fringe off his forehead.

“Please, Harry, call me Louis!” he replied loudly. Harry relaxed slightly; he was clearly drunk. “Harry, this is Stan, an old friend of mine. What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m friends with the bartender?” Harry winced.

“Well, the more the merrier,” said Louis, sliding down on the small booth and patting the seat next to him. “It’s a special occasion, after all.”

But after that, Harry and Louis barely noticed. Every conversation they started ended in a string of “me too!”s and “I know!”s and “I’ve never met anyone else who agreed!”s. They didn’t even have to try around each other. Even though they’d barely met, and even though Louis was a good twenty years older than him, Harry felt that spark he almost never felt anymore. That spark that said, I get you, and you get me.

Of course, that spark almost always happened between him and a girl. He connected with guys too, sure, but it never had that same urgency, the same—well, the same attraction. He was attracted to Louis. Harry stared into his beer and winced as Louis’s knee touched his thigh and sent lightning up his leg. He was definitely, definitely attracted.

“Listen,” said Louis, draping a hand over Harry’s shoulders and yawning as they walked out to the parking lot at half-past twelve, “like I said, this is a special occasion. So I want you to forget about five of those seven pints I had tonight and assume I am just perfectly able-bodied, because on a normal night I would never drive my son’s football coach home slightly drunk.”

Harry laughed tipsily and leaned into Louis’s side. (Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating his susceptibility to alcohol as an excuse to snuggle. Louis wouldn’t remember it the next morning.) After a few mishaps with similar-looking cars, they fall into both sides of Louis’s Lexus and slump into the leather seats.

“This is a really nice car,” Harry says, slurring slightly.

Louis grins and starts the engine, causing a Britney Spears song to blast out of the speakers before he dives to turn it off. Harry laughs hysterically and turns it back on. “Is this Nick’s Nineties Night?” he asks, putting his hands over his mouth.

“You listen to it too?” Louis grins ecstatically.

“Religiously!” Harry puts his hand on his heart and begins to lipsync passionately along. 

“Now I’m stronger, than yesterday,” they sang, laughing and drunk, to each other. “Now there’s nothing in my way…my loneliness ain’t killing me no more!” They stopped, laughing self-consciously, but not taking their eyes off one another; and then suddenly it was silent in the car, and they were so close, and Harry didn't know if it was the alcohol giving him this buzz or what, but his head was fuzzy and he couldn't think; and then they stumbled and fell into each other and suddenly they were kissing. Harry was kissing this thirty-something, goofy, clever, incredibly attractive dad. 

He didn't know how long they kissed, but it seemed like an eternity later when Louis pulled away and slumped down in the seat. "Jesus Christ. I - I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"Why?" asked Harry softly. 

"Why?" Louis snorted and shook his head. "Because you're, I don't know, sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Harry corrected him. 

"Seventeen, and I'm thirty-seven, and you coach my son, and my wife and I are supposed to be working things out, and I'm so drunk, and...this whole thing was such a mistake. I'm sorry."

"It's not like you forced me into anything," Harry said, slightly miffed. He didn't regret anything.

"I did, though!" Louis punched the wheel angrily. "I weaseled my way into picking Jack up, and talked to you so I would have an excuse to drink with you, and -"

"Wait, what?"

Louis sighed. "I'd seen you before at the bar. I knew you coached a kids football league, so I figured there was a chance it was Jack's, and...I wanted to talk to you. Maybe I didn't do it entirely consciously, but...I manipulated you. I pretended. Just so I could try and get in your pants."

Harry smiled. "Really?"

Louis looked at him and laughed in spite of himself. "It's not really something to be pleased about."

Harry grinned and shook out his fringe. "Come here." He climbed over the partition into Louis's lap and looked down at him. "Ever thought I might want to get in your pants too?" 

This time when they kissed, it was slower, more serious, and Harry felt every bit of it, from Louis's heavy hand on his waist to the taste of beer in his mouth to the way their tongues together made his head spin. "I've never actually done this before," he whispered, resting his cheek on Louis's stubble. 

"Oh Jesus, I'm your first kiss, too?"

Harry laughed softly. "Hardly. I mean, with a guy."

"Oh. Well, you're awfully good at it," Louis admitted. Harry felt his hand twirling his curls, and he closed his eyes blissfully, kissing his way up Louis's neck. Louis guided him up to his mouth again, and brought his hands down Harry's chest to rest above his hips where Harry was straddling him.

"Do you want to do more?" Harry asked quietly, staring down at him.

Louis gazed at him for a minute, Harry's open face reflected in his clear blue eyes. "No," he said finally. "This is perfect. Just like this." 

Harry rested his head in Louis's shoulder and closed his eyes. 

"I just want to stay like this."


End file.
